


Black and White

by Alabaster86



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:59:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alabaster86/pseuds/Alabaster86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the story behind the portrait of Mai and Zuko we see in Day of Black Sun.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black and White

Mai lay in her bed, the sheets in a crumpled mess at her feet, and thought about Zuko. That was hardly unusual, especially at night, when she tended to do most of her thinking. He had gone back to the palace less than an hour earlier, walking through the soft summer night, looking up at her silhouette in the window and waving, a wistful smile on his face. She hated when he left. Yes, it was irrational. He was simply walking across the street after all and she would see him the next morning. But, his banishment had scarred her as surely as it had Zuko.

She couldn't help but recall those three years she spent alone and heartbroken, not knowing Zuko's fate. Mai would wonder and imagine all the time and the line between what was real and what she dreamed sometimes became blurred. What was most frightening for Mai was the idea of forgetting. What if Zuko's face faded from her memory? She had no picture to look at, no portrait to hold close. All she could rely on was memory and that was fallible. Mai made a decision that night and spoke to Zuko about it the following day.

* * *

Slouching against one of the pillars at the entranceway to her parents' house, Mai watched as Zuko strode purposefully toward her. He always walked faster when he was coming to see her than when he was leaving. Zuko wanted to set eyes on her, wanted to be with her, touch her as badly as she wanted it. Such a simple thing, his walk, and it said so much.

He looked handsome in his long red robes, hair up in a top knot and head held up proudly. She felt that now all too familiar rush of desire and the slight reddening of her cheeks. As he approached the steps, Mai moved down to meet him, slipping her hand into his and placing a quick kiss on his cheek before opening the door.

"Hey," he whispered with a shy smile.

"Hey," she whispered back. "Did you eat breakfast?"

"No, I wanted to eat with you." He gave her that smile again and Mai's stomach performed a maneuver that would make Ty Lee envious.

She led him into the kitchen where tea sat ready along with fresh fruit and pastries. They sat casually at the small table and ate, stealing glances at each other over red teacups. Mai poured him another cup and watched as he sniffed the tea first, swirled it around, and then took a sip.

Noticing her curiosity, Zuko explained. "My uncle did that whenever he drank a cup of tea. I guess I picked it up from him. It's a habit now."

His face darkened as it always did when Iroh came up and all sorts of emotions flickered in his eyes; sadness, confusion, guilt and a terrible self loathing. There was nothing Mai could do to ease that pain except let him talk if he wanted to and let him know in her own way, that she cared. Mai reached upward and cupped his scarred left cheek in her hand. Ever so gently, it was still a sensitive spot for Zuko, she moved her thumb in small, soothing circles. The prince closed his eyes and leaned forward, relishing her touch. He opened his eyes again when she stopped and met her almond shaped ones. There was gratitude in his now and the spark of something else. Hesitantly, Zuko moved in and kissed Mai. It was slow and incredibly sensuous. Heat built up in Mai and she wanted nothing more than to run upstairs and back into her bed. But she had a proposal for Zuko.

"Would you do something for me?" Mai asked when their lips finally parted.

"Yes, of course, what is it?"

"I was thinking about getting our portrait painted. I'd like to have a picture of us, you especially."

Mai swallowed and waited for Zuko's reply. A portrait meant that a relationship was serious; there you were, on the wall or on a side table, together, memorialized for everyone to see. The thought was thrilling and she hoped that Zuko would agree. She was certain that he felt for her the way that she felt for him. But would he want to take it _that_ far? Oh, _why_ did that irritatingly persistent feeling of doubt always trouble her?

Zuko's eyes widened with surprise, the damaged one unable to quite keep up with his good one. "You, you want a picture of _me_? Why?"

'Because I love you, you idiot and if you leave again, I don't know how I'll survive' was what Mai _wanted_ to say, but what she couldn't manage to utter. Closing her eyes briefly, she gathered her thoughts.

Zuko fidgeted with the tea cup on the table. He turned it around and around as he waited for her answer.

"I have a bare spot on my wall, and I need to fill it with something," Mai finally replied. She rolled her eyes and touched Zuko's cheek again, trying to tell him with her fingers what she couldn't with her words.

"Oh, well, sure, that's fine. I don't know if my father will let us use the official royal portrait painter, though. He costs a lot of money; sorry, Mai." Truth be told, Zuko didn't want to ask.

The prince recalled the last time he had sat for a portrait. His mother and father had still spoken civilly to each other then, though he couldn't remember genuine warmth or happiness. The artist had suggested to Ozai that he rest a hand on his young son's shoulder. The feel of that hand, heavy and warm, one of the rare times that his father touched him, was strange yet exhilarating. Maybe Ozai didn't hate him after all. But, once the sitting was done, he'd gone back to ignoring Zuko, his only comments ones of criticism and derision. Zuko had been wrong to think that. His mother was the only one who loved him.

"What are you thinking about?" Mai waved a hand in front of her boyfriend's face. His distant expression faded and he focused on Mai again.

"Nothing important. Do you have an artist in mind?" Zuko really didn't want to discuss the old memories with Mai. It didn't matter. His mother was gone and everything was different.

"I'm going to see the one my parents use later on. I'll set up an appointment and let you know."

Zuko nodded in agreement. That was fine. "You really want a picture of me?"

"Yes, you idiot; I wouldn't ask if I didn't want one."

"Oh, yeah, right," he uttered sheepishly. Mai actually wanted to see his face in her room every day and every night. His heart felt light all of a sudden and he smiled broadly, a genuine smile that took Mai's breath away.

* * *

Zuko wore his formal robes and his hair up. Mai wore what she always did, loose, comfortable pants with a long tunic overtop. They stood together, Mai slightly in front of Zuko, their wide sleeves brushing against each other.

"Ah, look at all the wonderful colours I get to play with," the older man, an experienced portrait painter, grinned. "What fun!"

"No, I've changed my mind." Mai shook her head. "I want a charcoal drawing, no colour."

It seemed to fit them, somehow. She could imagine the colour herself if she wanted to anyway. But charcoal, with its dark blacks and many shades of gray, its subtlety and gentle variations was perfect.

"Whatever you wish, my lady." He found a charcoal stick and began, sketching the outline of their stiff figures. "Relax. It's just a portrait, something for you to enjoy later." As if on cue, both Mai and Zuko took deep breaths and did their best to loosen up. "That's much better."

The artist continued working. He was quick and didn't say much but the old man seemed to see everything that lay beneath the surface. His gaze was searching and deep as if he wanted to capture more than just their faces and figures. He wanted to capture _them_ , their very essences, both individually and as a couple. It was uncomfortable being scrutinized so intensely. When the artist bent back down to his work, Zuko took hold of Mai's fingers, hiding both their hands inside her conveniently voluminous sleeve. Mai smirked just slightly and Zuko looked straight ahead as if trying not to laugh.

That's what the artist drew, that intimacy, that bond between two damaged young people. They were afraid to let anyone else in, but with each other, Mai and Zuko could truly be themselves. It was beautiful and so was the portrait.

* * *

Mai found the perfect frame in a small local shop. It was a deep red, just slightly lighter than the colour on her wall. The black and white of the drawing contrasted with the red dramatically and a pretty bit of material draped along its top edge softened the entire effect just enough.

When it hung safely on her wall, opposite her bed, where she could see it as she lie waiting for sleep to take her, Mai summoned Zuko. The portrait caught his eye as soon as he entered Mai's bedroom. There they were, together forever, side by side, touching, looking as though they shared a secret. He supposed that they did, many in fact. With a smile he wrapped an arm around Mai and pulled her in close.

"Is that what you wanted?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Mai replied with equal softness. "It's exactly what I wanted."

* * *

The portrait haunted Zuko as he left Mai's bedroom on the day of the eclipse.

The portrait both angered and comforted Mai as she lay in bed that same night, Zuko's letter clutched in one hand.


End file.
